a/n: a three-part modern Hiccstrid fic. Part one in Hiccup's POV, part two in Astrid's POV, part three in both. I'm back to writing fanfics after a ten year fan fic writing hiatus, so any reviews/feedback would be very helpful and encouraging.

Addicted

It's amazing the things you learn at one in the morning.

For instance, every street light in Berk flashes yellow. There are no red lights, no green lights, and the usual twenty minute trip would take you ten. I can hear the soft whistling of the wind and the leaves tumbling across the deserted streets. Train whistles are louder… I feel a 'if a tree falls in the forest' question coming on.

My handwriting is different at one a.m. It's more flowing, slanting. Girly, really. I write faster at night and as I sit here writing this, I wonder why I'm finding this out. I should be asleep at one a.m.

My room feels different, too. Almost ghost-like. It's doused in a strange mixture of falling moonlight and the bright light of the small lamp on the desk in front of me. I can feel the curling breeze from the open window, the curtains fluttering every so often. I can hear the fabric rustling softly with each passing breeze. My cat, Toothless, snores softly from where he is curled up my bed.

My fingertips feel rounder at one a.m. I'm sure there is a long winded explanation for this. Touching anything feels different with dulled, slower senses; yet, part of me almost feels cat-like like in my nocturnal state. If you wander the town at one a.m., no one will notice you. Everyone is asleep.

Her window looks different at one a.m. It's been left open to invite the cool air into the room. The drapes on the window are sheer and look like something from a fairy tale and their soft movement in the early morning's breeze stuns me to a near hypnotized state. The rosebushes under the window are inviting but their thorns stand as a warning to keep out. I hear her soft breathing from inside the room. No one notices me standing there, but I'm no braver at one a.m., and startling her at such an hour would not be sane or romantic.

The sounds in the woods behind the town are different. It's like a whole other life at night. The birds are silent, for once, and the rustlings sound more acute. More placed. The grass looks different, if you can see it at all, and the cover of the trees blend together. It's easier to walk through the woods at one a.m.

One a.m. must be a time of magic, as ridiculous as that sounds. An hour that is truly unknown. An hour of difference in the monotonous world. It feels like I am the only soul alive or awake, conscious of the world around me. The sounds and movements, sightless really, all belong to me.

My own voice is louder; my breathing and sighing and even blinkingis audible and you'd swear every being in the world would be awake at my subtle, quiet command from such noise.

I should be asleep at one a.m.

What could possibly keep me awake? Her.

Oh Thor, the girl is beating down the door to my sanity. I should be dreaming peacefully, but instead it is one a.m. and I am awake and shaking in my own frustration and anxiety that is riddling my body with sleeplessness. Such a trivial matter, really, but I have lost all sanity and my insomnia will not rest until this simple matter of my life is solved. The only thing that could possibly stand in the way of my peaceful slumber is her. That stubborn, sarcastic, strong, warm-hearted, proud, amazing, beautiful, frustrating girl who keeps me up at all hours pacing, just wondering what to do about her. Could you imagine?

I haven't slept all week. Two weeks? God, when was the last time I slept? I've been living on coffee. I think I'm a tad addicted. It's been a slow spiral. I started with one cup and now I'm at…five? Yeah, it's not working.

I'm addicted, but coffee isn't my only drug. I'm addicted to the sound of her voice, her laugh, her smell. I'm addicted to her hair—it's intoxicating, really, when she teases me, flicking her braid over her shoulder and sending a collision of smells into my senses. I'm addicted to her lips, so soft and small and perfect. I've lost it, I'm aware, but to go a day without seeing her? I'll die a slow painful death.

This should be illegal. The effect she has on me? They could bottle it and sell it to our enemies. It's worse at one a.m. I was literally outside her window before I talked myself out of sure humiliation and a hard punch in the chest from Astrid.

I'm counting down the hours to my demise; I know I won't make it to the breakfast table tomorrow morning before I collapse and convulse or something equally dramatic, but it's one a.m. and I know she's asleep and I just want to be there. And not in the creepy stalker way, but the just-hearing-you-breathe-is-enough-to-find-fulfillment-in-life kind of way. Which sort of sounds stalker-y but it's not. Like having her asleep on my shoulder just once was like heroine straight to my bloodstream.

This is insane and I cannot take it anymore. I'll die. I swear I'll die. She has to have some clue, some hint, to what she does to me. Something must allude her to the fact that I'll never sleep again if something isn't done because I am slowly but surely losing my mind to her a little bit more every night. She makes a guy want to be a drug addict. I'll swear off coffee, I'll swear off energy drinks, I'll do whatever she wants. No matter the degree of humiliation or pain or how much it costs. I'll do it just make it stop. If she'll just make it—

"Hiccup? Hiccup, wake up".

Oh God, that's her voice. It finally happened. I've snapped and I'm hallucinating.

"Up, sleepy head!"

Her laugh rings in my head like bells in the breeze.

"How did you get in here?" I mumble, my eyes still closed.

"Your dad let me up," comes her reply.

I open my eyes but immediately shut them as the bright morning light blinds my vision.

"Did you seriously fall asleep writing in your notebook?" Astrid asks and leans over to pick up the notebook under my hand, "What does this say? June second, one a.m…One a.m? Hiccup!"

Sitting up, I snatch the notebook from her grasp, elbows quivering as our fingers brush.

"I couldn't sleep," I offer, "Too much coffee".

My eyes focus enough to finally see her. Honey blonde hair, pulled back in a loose braid behind her head, round face, pale skin, bright blue eyes. Apparently, this is not a hallucination; or maybe it is just a very good one.

"He didn't stop muttering until around three" Stoick comments as he passes through the hallway on his way downstairs, heavy boots stomping against the hardwood floors, "That's probably when he passed out".

"Are you ok?" Astrid's voice is suddenly laced with concern, "You look terrible. You shouldn't stay up so late."

She is so close. She smells like wildflowers and laundry detergent and whatever perfumed shampoo she uses to make her hair shine and it's like inhaling crack only better because I'm fully aware of what's going on. So maybe it's worse.

"I'm terrible. I'm horrible," I groan, "You could end my suffering now, you know."

She almost laughs again, but that would probably kill me so I'm relieved when she doesn't. Instead, she just sighs and gently takes the notebook from my hands to set it on the desk. Then she places her hands on my forearm and drags me up to my feet. The sensation of her skin on mine sends my heart into overdrive. Thump, thump, thump. She leads me to my bed just as Toothless jumps onto it with a soft, concerned meow.

"Yeah, yeah…get some sleep, Hiccup," she says, "And no more coffee for you."

I manage to groan her name and cling to her arm as she gets up to leave.

"Hiccup, please, you need to get some sleep. This is ridiculous."

"Please?" I practically whine.

"Hiccup. No coffee. Ever again." She tugs the blankets loose, forcing me to lay down with one arm while she pulls the blankets over me with the other and I absolutely melt like hot wax and do whatever she wants. And then she does it; she leans down and kisses my forehead and I know I'm completely screwed.

I'm hopelessly addicted. And yes, I've gotten my fix. I can finally sleep with some peace, but I swear to all that is holy when I wake up it will be one a.m. all over again. Had she any sympathy, she would kill me now.

In my state of absolute haze and mental absence, my unconscious thoughts become to unconscious words and I mutter the stupidest thing I have quite possibly ever spoken in the form of an 'I love you' to her as she stands up. Before I can hate myself or throw myself from the window, Toothless curls up against my side with a purr and my mind has started to fall deeper into the realm of sleep; a place that we have not visited in a very. Long. Time.

I would trade anything in the world to keep her up until one a.m. for just one night. Then she would finally see what her very presence does to me. And maybe she would understand that I could never love another woman as intensely as I love her.